Luck
by Green Budgie
Summary: Is Neil really all that lucky?
1. Chapter 1

"See that one?"

"What about him?"

"No, not that one. Look outside, the one next to the fountain."

"Seems sorta familiar."

The taller of the two girls laughs, perfectly straight teeth, the result of years of care and manipulation, flashing in the fluorescent lighting of the retreat. "And you call yourself a fashion major? Come on, five years ago you couldn't talk about anyone else, just how fast his star was rising, how he was the most famous model from New Olympia, or even this part of the country, how much you wanted to design something for him to model."

The other girl blanches, fingers twisting in waist-length, bleached blonde hair as she leans forward, as though a few centimeters will help her see someone a room's length and then some away more clearly. But it must, for she whispers, "Neil?"

"That's what they say. You'd remember what happened better than I." Slightly spiteful: She's always disapproved of Megan's fascination with the rich and the famous, as though she single-handedly keeps the gossip industry running.

Silence from the blonde; she stares out the window with eyes fixed on something incredibly far away in time, if not literal distance.

A burst of vivid blue hair next to them declares, "You're here for the orientation, right?" She fumbles through the papers in her arms and produces one. "Megan, right? I'm Paige." Of course she knows. The blonde's picture is stapled to the package.

"Yes," she replies all the same, waving a cool goodbye as her sometimes-friend, most-times rival leaves to see to her charges.

"Everything's in order for you, then. I'll just give you the tour, and--" Paige follows her gaze to the man staring into the fountain. "You knew him?"

"In a way. Never dreamt that he would be here." _She_ probably did, Megan thinks resentfully. It would probably lose her this volunteering position, and _then_ what would she do? She needed something to add to her university application.

"He was brilliant," Paige says sadly, sitting on the arm of a nearby couch in defiance of every rule Megan's mother has ever made and echoing what she's said so often. "I mean, even considering his luck, how he always seemed to be in the right place at the right time, he became famous so quickly. And then..."

The Accident. No need to say it; every person who had ever had the slightest interest in the model's career, and many that didn't, knew what had happened four years ago. The scandal, the interviews, his agents insisting that Hera was not a name for Satan, thank you very much, but a Greek goddess. And the media's retorts: "Sure, maybe he picked up Hera from a Disney movie, but how do you explain Chiron? Or Persephone? You can't tell me that he actually read up on these things."

She shakes her blue hair briskly. "Well, you know as well as I do. Talk to him sometime--you're here to keep the residents company, after all. Just try not to talk about him modeling unless he's the one who brings it up, ok?"

Megan's fingers are entwined in her hair once more, as they so often are these days. Still, she asks, "How long has he been here?" Trying to sound like a professional, not the fangirl of a disappeared legend, but she knows she's failed.

"Three and a half years. He stayed with us for a year's sabbatical before, right after it happened, then went back to modeling. At least, his body did. Tried to keep it up for six months, but even though his luck was as good as ever, he just didn't care about it anymore. You can see it in the last shots." Paige bats Megan's fingers out of her hair with navy-blue fingernails, as though suspecting them of attempting to hang themselves. "Why don't you tell him what you're majoring in? So long as you don't suggest that he be a model, he's fair good for suggestions. Your friend got a few bits of advice from him."

She would have, Megan thinks, feeling more and more resentful. _She_ always got everything first. "Maybe," she says, hands clasped tightly together to keep them from seeking refuge in her hair once more.

But she volunteers at Meadowcroft Retreat for the better part of a month before, frustrated by her upcoming assignment, she finally approaches him.

She steps outside, shutting the screen door behind her and making sure the resident cat hasn't slipped out once more, fingers reaching instinctively for her hair before she remembers its been pulled back. Somehow, though the blue-haired girl never says anything, Megan knows the habit annoys her, so she tries as hard as she can to avoid it. Paige's approval has come to mean much to her. It is the reason why she has finally come outside, though she pretends it is for an assignment.

Like the first day, like ever day she's visited Meadowcroft, Neil sits by the fountain, staring into the plaster basin as though the secrets of the universe are written inside it, though all that is there are dead leaves and twigs. It is an expression that would have once covered thousands of billboards, probably selling some new cologne, or maybe a cell phone. Now, though...

The face that exists in Megan's oldest scrapbooks, the one that inspired hundreds of designs, the one that still does, is gone. The high cheekbones are gaunt and hollow, dark smudges underline his vague eyes, and his hair his tangled, probably a mass of split ends. Worse yet, he doesn't even seem to care, only shifting with annoyance when she blocks the sunlight pouring into the fountain.

"Do you mind?" he asks irritably, then stretches on hand towards her hair, a stunned expression replacing the blank one. "Theresa? Why did you dye your hair? It's awful for it, just look at Archie's. No, no, I promised I wouldn't bother him about that. Is he here? What about Jay? Odie? Anyone?" But then he looks at her nametag and her face and shakes his head. "You're not Theresa." His voice is accusing, and he glares at her before returning his gaze to the fountain.

Theresa is one the names that had been listed in the newspapers and gossip columns when they mentioned that Neil was going over the deep end, Megan remembers. Theresa, Atlanta, Odie, Archie, Herry, Jay. His agents insist, even now, that he'd been involved in an RPG of some sort, based around Greek mythology, for how else would he have learned the names of some of the less well-known gods? Some still mutter, though, that it was a cult that he'd been involved in, and that it is a miracle that he escaped the building before it came crashing down around him. Neil's famous luck.

No one knows just why the RPG group broke up so quickly, not even the agents, or why it left the formerly carefree model so shattered. But it had, and a few short years later Neil, already a legend, retreated wholly from the public eye. A publicity ploy, so that when he returns, he'll be all the more famous? Megan doesn't think so anymore, can't remember if she ever did.

She sits back, intending to at least show him one or two sketches for his opinion-that is, if her mostly-rival hasn't poisoned his mind against her-and then notices a flash of gold on the rim of the fountain. His mirror, the one he'd never been seen without. Curious, and not receiving any objections from Neil, Megan flips it open and looks at the picture in the bottom quadrant.

It should be him, she knows, the Neil that survives in her oldest sketchbooks, just as all the magazines once proclaimed. How many times had her friends laughed over it, saying that he needed to know exactly what he was supposed to look like, elsewise he wouldn't be sure which way his hair went. Yet is isn't.

Seven teens--two girls, five boys--pose in front of Olympia High, Megan's own school. Not the formal picture always taken by school photographers: It seems as though they'd all simply chanced to be in front of the camera at once. They smile brightly at her, waiting patiently to resume their lives, and with one stunned stare at the Neil she remembers, she shuts it.

Neil is crying, she suddenly realizes, too-human steaks of tears marking his face and falling into the water below. "I thought I was the lucky one," he whispers, and for a second Megan thinks she sees the teens in the picture surrounding his reflection, a sprawling field replacing the plaster basin.

"I thought I was the lucky one," he says again, touching the water tentatively and shattering the illusion. "So why did you leave me behind?"

---

_Inspired by xanthophiliac's War Photography and written with her permission. It broke the pattern, though... guilty Hope you don't mind!_


	2. Chapter 2

_Different, stylistically speaking, from the last piece, although set in the same "world." (ie: Neil being the last surviving titan) This one is told through a variety of mediums, including newspaper clippings and phone and radio transcripts. I've tried to make each different section as distinct as possible; please let me know if there is anything else._

---

**LUCKY TEEN SAVED BY LUCKIER MODEL**

Yesterday afternoon, Jennifer Habieda, a student at New Olympia High, made what might have been her last trip from school if not for phenomenal luck.

"There was a swerving sound, and I saw this huge grey minivan rushing for me, and I remember thinking _'Oh god, I'm going to die today,'_" Jennifer said in an exclusive interview. Yet this lucky teen is still alive. Why?

A little over seven years ago, New Olympia's most internationally famous citizen, the model Neil, retired from the world of modeling. Since then, many have reported seeing them, but the caregivers at the retreat known only as Meadowcroft say that he never left. Until today, when the famously lucky model made a trip to his old high school and happened to see the minivan heading for Jennifer.

"It was the weirdest thing, but in a good way, you know? I mean, now I can say I had my life saved by a supermodel."

Neil's agents have refused to give any interviews, but they do say that he will be returning to his former profession. Several agencies have been reported to have approached him, including the renowned _Callistar Corp_, who have formerly worked with Raleigh Periera and California Ikeda. _Callistar Corp_ has yet to confirm the rumors that a multimillion dollar contract is in the works, but sources say there's more than just air to it.

The collapse of the Kingsbridge Highrises nearly eight years ago marked the beginning of Neil's disappearance from modeling in a case that police have never removed the label of suspicious from, although there is no evidence to suggest anything other than structural flaws combined with the adverse weather of several days before the collapse. There are those who speculate that it was engineered by a jealous fan, or a rival model. One Natalie Shelestynsky, a resident of the Kingsbridge Highrises, says that "I never thought it could happen. You see it on TV all the time, but you never dream it could happen to you. No one does. You just can't live like that."

(Story continued page E15 under _Luck_)

---

**DJ Kal:** So, Neil, it's been a while since I've talked to you. I was just getting settled down here at 98.5 FM when you were midway through the Jorkan contract, right?

**Neil:** Oh, yeah, it's been a while, but I'm definitely back this time. I mean, I've got so much I want to get done. sound of blown kiss, cheers from audience

**DJ Kal:** Of course. Look, for all these years, everyone's always talked about how lucky you are. Have you got anything to say about that? Techniques, good luck charms, routines? Or are you just incredibly lucky.

**Neil:** laughter That would be telling. I can tell you this, Kal. I always keep my mirror with me, but that hasn't got anything to do with it. You need a mirror to be a model. Gotta keep the looks in place and all.

**DJ Kal:** Aw, come on. I need some luck. I have a hot date this weekend. cheers from audience Any tips for me and all the guys out there?

**Neil:** Well, maybe a little bit. If you're at a club, for instance, you can't just stand in the corner. You have to go and convince everyone there, especially your girl, that you're supposed to be there. The same thing goes for modeling. If you act like you own the place, and then you manage to do your stuff right, people will respect you. You can't wait for them to ask you what you can do. I mean, I never wait. I just go out and do it.

**DJ Kal:** Alright, guys, straight from the mouth of the luckiest guy in New Olympia. What more can you ask for? Give it up for Neil! applause, cheering We're going to cut to a quick commercial break, and when we get back, you, yes you, are going to get to ask questions to Neil himself. more cheers

Cut to commercial break

98.5 FM logo plays

**DJ Kal:** Hellllo, New Olympia! I'm DJ Kal, and today I'm talking with our very own Neil! Yes, that's right, that lucky bastard who snatched the 7.3 million dollar _Callistar_ contract, the one you see every day on the billboards all across town. And now I'm taking your calls, so that you can talk to Neil! Jeff, you're on the air.

**Jeff:** Hey, Kal. I've been listening to your show ever since you did the first interview with Neil, but I never called. How you doing?

**DJ Kal:** Great, man. And you?

**Caller 1:** Awesome. Neil, I've got a question for you.

**Neil:** Shoot.

**Caller 1:** When you started out, you did purely freelance. But the _Callistar_ deal is a pretty big one. Some people say they want to sign you fulltime. Is that true?

**Neil:** Well, I'm sure they'd _like_ me to stick with them full time. I don't know if I'm ready for that, though. I don't want to be cramped into only one sort of modeling, you know? Not just travel, or cars, or clothing.

**DJ Kal:** I don't think you're ever going to have to worry about that, Neil. Not with your luck. laughter, applause from audience

**Neil:** Luck isn't everything, Kal.

---

ANNOUNCER: And now we'll leave you with Catherine Seawright at New Olympia High, where billionaire model Neil is about to make the donation of a lifetime.

Camera shifts to view of NEW OLYMPIA HIGH, pans CROWD

SEAWRIGHT: A graduate of New Olympia High, this outrageously lucky model is definitely amongst the richest Canadians. He is certainly one of the most famous--several teens today have jokingly said that they can remember his name better than that of the Prime Minister. Still, they aren't bombarded with images of the Prime Minister every day, so perhaps they have an excuse.

Several TEENS wave at camera. Zoom out, then in on STAGE, where the PRINCIPAL walks out

SEAWRIGHT (CONT): New Olympia High, at the time when Neil attended, was one of the best-equipped in Canada thanks to investments from Pantheon Inc, who sponsored their president's child's school. Shortly after Neil retired from the modeling world, however, the money was withdrawn from New Olympia High, and the equipment became more and more obsolete. Neil's agent says that he hopes to reverse these effects today, although I have no doubt that his manager is happy about the extra publicity.

The CROWD quiets as the PRINCIPAL taps the microphone

PRINCIPAL: Today, one of our own, Neil, is returning to the school to bestow upon us a most generous gift. Over $800 000 will be given to the school over the next two years in order to restore the extracurricular funding that has been cut. But now, the man of the day!

Cheering; NEIL walks onto STAGE as PRINCIPAL moves to the left

NEIL: Thank you, thank you. It's great to be back.

Applause

NEIL (CONT): You know, when I first came to New Olympia High, I never would have guessed just how much it would end up meaning to me. I can honestly say that I spent the best three years of my life here. It's still a great place, but I think it could be fixed up a little. Like a new computer lab, hm? Or fixing the second pool? You guys are going to get better lockers, better food, and better sports equipment! I don't just want this to be the sort of school you talk about years from now, I want it to be the sort that people pretend they're from. So what do you say?

Wild cheering from CROWD

NEIL (CONT): I can't hear you!

CROWD: YEAH!

---

**Exit 3 km says:** Hey  
**Exit 3 km says:** Missed you at school today  
**hullabaloo says:** Hihi!  
**hullabaloo says:** Yeah, lol. I'm sik  
**hullabaloo says:** sick  
**Exit 3 km says:** You can't be that sick. Besides, I saw you running around the mall yesterday  
**hullabaloo says:** What do you mean by _that?_  
**Exit 3 km says:** I know you had a math test today, and that you didn't study  
**Exit 3 km says:** Hello?  
**Exit 3 km says:** You there?  
**Exit 3 km says:** Fine; I'm sorry. If you answer I'll tell you something cool  
**hullabaloo says:** I'll forgive you this time. Tell.  
**Exit 3 km says:** I was talking to Debbie today in science, and she was listening to her radio. You know how she keeps her ear buds up her sleeves, it's so obvious. I wonder why Storsky hasn't done anything about it yet. He would have if it was any of us.  
**hullabaloo says:** ... And?  
**Exit 3 km says:** Well, she gave me a bud when Storsky left the class. They were playing that song, you know, the one that Anh was singing yesterday. I was trying to figure out the title when DJ Kal came on  
**Exit 3 km says:** You know how Kal and Neil are tight, right?  
**hullabaloo says:** Yeah. DJ Kal always knows what's going on with him.  
**Exit 3 km says:** Well, Neil took him out for lunch since it was his birthday. Kal's cousin is a Mountie, so he came as a semi-bodyguard. There was a letter in his--Neil's--mailbox, and it was a letter bomb! The only reason they found it in time was because Kal's dog is a retired bomb-dog  
**hullabaloo says:** Seriously? And then what?  
**Exit 3 km says:** Well, Kal's cousin took care of it and all, so now Neil's fine  
**hullabaloo says:** Whoa. He's pretty damn luck  
**Exit 3 km says:** Yeah... It's amazing just how lucky he is  
**hullabaloo says:** Can you do me a favour?  
**Exit 3 km says:**What?  
**hullabaloo says:** What's on the test?  
**Exit 3 km says:** Cheater

---

NEW OLYMPIA, September 14, 20--

In a fantastic ceremony, New Olympia's wealthiest resident presented another million dollars to New Olympia High. Thousands of fans from all across the country attended in the hopes that he would bestow such a gift on their own school, as he has elsewhere, although never so much as here. Students comment:

"It's really cool, you know? I mean, Neil's all famous and everything, but he still remembers where he comes from. Actors thank "the little people" when they win an award, and sometimes they do neat stuff, but he just does it out of nowhere. Now we'll be able to fix up the gym really nicely, and get some decent cameras for the photography club."

"I think it's what he should be doing. He's so lucky, it makes sense for him to share. Karma, like. Maybe that's why he's so lucky. 'Cause he's such a good guy. Or maybe he's such a good guy because he's so lucky. Um... Either way, he's great."

"You know, my mother used to say that he made all that money illegally, and that Kingsbridge was destroyed in a cop raid, and I know she wasn't the only person who thought that. It's ridiculous. I mean, everyone literally throws their money at him. Why would he need to get involved in some insane drug ring or something? And if it was illegal, why would he be giving it to us?"

"I love you, Neil! Marry me!"

"He gave us our school team name. You can't exactly call yourselves the Olympian Gods, and the Heroes just sounds silly. Titans fits us pretty well, and it's a good name. For a model, Neil's a pretty damn cool guy. Lucky, too. But we're lucky to have him."

(Story continued page E2 under _Billionaire_.)

---

"Operator. How may I direct your call?"

"He's going to die! I need help! Please!"

"Ma'am, where are you? What's going on?"

"I'm at school. West hallway. Um, oh god, New Olympia High. God, he looks like my cousin did when he had a heart attack. Please!"

"There's an ambulance five minutes away, ma'am. I'm putting you straight through to one of them. They'll direct you through the steps to take."

"Thank you, thank you..."

"Hello? Ma'am, what's your name?"

"I'm Casey. Casey Dias."

"Alright, Casey. What I need you to do is to take a few deep breaths, ok? Now, do you have your backpack with you? Some textbooks?"

"Yes."

"Good. Put them under his feet. That will help keep circulation in critical areas. He _is_ lying down, correct?"

"Yes. I remembered that from when my cousin had a heart attack." (Shuffling)

"Do you know if the patient has a history of heart problems? Family with heart attacks, maybe? Any recent dizzy spells?"

"I don't know. Oh, god, please hurry. He just came here this morning to open the new art corridor. Some people wanted to do sketches of him for one of the murals. I can't let Neil die."

"Casey, we'll be with you in a few seconds. We're nearly at the school. I need you to stay as calm as possible, for Neil's sake. Take his pulse at his neck. Can you feel it?"

"Barely. It's all fluttery and weak. But I can do that..."

"Casey? Casey, where are you?"

(Silence)

"Are you still there?"

(Sobbing) "He's dead! His pulse is gone!"

"No, no he's not. We have equipment that can deal with that, he's not dead. Calm, calm, just talk to me. Describe what you can see. Casey? Keep talking to me."

(Shaky breaths) "All... Alright. I can... Can keep talking. I'm in the west wing. The old part of the school. I'm right in front of the janitor's closet. It's blue... He's so pale."

"Casey, we're in the school now. Just make sure no one gets to close to him."

"Oh, please, just let him be okay, just let him be okay, I can't let him die..."

"You did all you could, Casey. We're here to take over now."

"Good--Good luck."

---

**DJ Kal:** This next song is for my man Neil; model, philanthropist, and the greatest guy I've ever known. He might have been lucky, but he was right when he said lucky wasn't everything. I'm taking calls all day long, just a chance for you to pay your respects. Caller?

**Caller 1:** Hi. I'm Debbie. I used to go to Sylvierd High before New Olympia High, so I know just how lucky we were to have Neil giving all this money to us. I have... a bit of a learning disability, and Sylvierd didn't have the budget to help me with it. Thanks to Neil's donations, I was able to get my life on track. I just wanted to thank him one last time.

**DJ Kal:** Thanks, Debbie. Caller?

**Caller 2:** Just before Neil came back to modeling, he saved my life. So I just wanted to say, if he can still hear me somewhere, wherever he is, thank you so much. I wish there was something I could do... I owe you everything. My life, my friends, my family... crying I hope... I hope you're happy, Neil.

**DJ Kal:** choked voice That's right. Neil, wherever you are, we all hope you're as happy as you can be. For anyone who missed the flyers plastered everywhere, there will be a service held at New Olympia High Friday night. I hope all of you make it there.

---

There is a field.

It is wide and narrow, infinitely vast and yet small enough that anyone can be found in a manner of moments. Many roads lead to it, but they are not the sort of road that the average person will be willing to take. But it is a kind and green place, for all of its contradictions, and it is here that a blond walks.

He is older than he looks, but he likes looking this way, dressed in clothing that he has had designed for him over and over again: Black and white linen shirt, dark pants, two black and white armbands. He walks past the gates, patting the three-headed dog on his head, and looks around the fields. It only takes a moment before he is noticed.

"You're here!"

A group emerges from the field, all teens, all smiling and laughing as they hug hum.

"I can't believe it. You finally made it!"

"Well, he always was the lucky one."

He returns their hugs, and doesn't even notice as something glimmering falls to the ground.

"Luck isn't everything. You guys are."

Their leader smiles, something he did too little in the days before the collapse of the Kingsbridge Highrises. "We missed you too, Neil. Come on! All the gods are waiting to greet you! Can't keep them waiting."

"Yes we can," he says plaintively, a trace of the old Neil emerging. But he smiles all the same. "But we shouldn't."

The titans, the group that, despite their occasional disagreements and internal tensions, had finally defeated Cronos, walk off in a tight cluster. And behind them, at the gates to the Elysian fields, a mirror lies open on the ground, a picture of seven teens looking up into the sky of Hades.

---

_Well... It didn't turn out how I expected, but I like it. Crits and comments all welcome! (Especially on how to spell Elysian. I think I got it wrong)_


End file.
